Because I Care
by MoonlightGardenias
Summary: EA Universe, set directly after Vingt-et-un. Because even if he knew it might happen, it doesn't stop him from needing to make her feel better afterward.


**Author's note: **I posted this earlier today on Tumblr, but I figured I might as well post it here. Like the summary said, this is set right after the last episode. I know a lot of people have their own personal head canons as to what takes place, but this refused to leave me alone this morning so I wanted to write it all out. Anyway, we will be without new episodes until February, so if anyone has any drabble or oneshot requests, feel free to send them my way!

This is my first attempt at writing anything within the Emma Approved/Pemberley Digital universe. I only hope I do the characters I love so much justice.

* * *

They sit side by side for a few minutes, neither speaking a word. He'd think she's fallen asleep if not for the sniffs that come every once in a while, the only signal that she's still trying to calm herself down. It's not often that Emma stays in one place for long, let alone let someone else care for her during that time, so Alex just sits there rubbing circles against her arm, at a loss of knowing what else to do until she says something.

Suddenly, Emma sits up, wiping her eyes as she lets out a sad laugh. "I have to call Harriet," she says, blinking back tears. "I have to call her and tell her I was wrong, that I was stupidly blind and that I failed. I have to—"

"Calm down," Alex says, resting his palm against her shoulder. He can already feel the energy that was drained from her just a bit ago pulsing, lurking beneath the surface. No one can keep Emma Woodhouse down for long, least of all herself, but the last thing he wants is for her to rush off before she's truly ready. "Emma, you don't have to make any decisions right now. You don't have to worry about Harriet or Elton, or any of that yet. What you need to worry about is you."

"So, what? When Harriet comes back I'm just supposed to come up with excuses as to why Elton isn't answering our calls? I'm just supposed to pretend that everything is fine when it's not? I failed, Alex. _Me_. That doesn't happen."

Alex opens his mouth to speak, but closes it again when he sees her turning to face him, already preparing more of her side of the argument.

"He was supposed to fall in love with her. He was supposed to take her to see plays and buy her fancy things from other countries, and take her places. I could see her standing behind him at press conferences, and at inauguration ceremonies. I was already thinking of color swatches for their engagement party, which, I know you think is crazy—" Emma holds up a hand, warding off any argument from him that might come. "I just don't understand how I could've been so wrong."

"Sometimes," Alex says, absently curling the end of her ponytail through his fingers. "It happens. To the best of us."

"But not to me, Alex. Not to me." Emma shakes her head and sighs, wishing for a better way. "Just say it."

"Say what?"

"_I told you so_. That's what I know you want to say," Emma says, rolling her eyes. "You want to tell me that I was wrong, that I never should have tried pushing Elton towards Harriet, that I should have just kept out of it."

Alex shakes his head. "No. I mean, yes, maybe you should've—" he stops, watching as her shoulders sag and she shakes her head. He scoots closer to her, again wrapping his arm around her shoulders. "If whatever it is means you end up this upset, then Emma, you have to know it's something I would never want. Look, all of this with Harriet? Yes, you have to deal with it eventually, and yes, it means we have to search for a new client. But you don't have to worry about that right now."

"Then when?" she asks, voice clipped as she leans into his side.

"Tomorrow," Alex replies, the word out of his mouth before he has a chance to process it, but once he does he knows just what to do. "Come on, we can leave this—" he says, gesturing to the things she'd been organizing earlier. "We can let it wait until tomorrow. Just the rest of the day, give it a break. Let's go grab lunch, maybe a latte from the cafe you like? I'd even willingly go shopping with you afterward."

Emma laughs, turning to look at him in disbelief. "Really?"

Alex nods, pleased to see her perk up at that thought. "Yes, really. I might as well have something in my wardrobe that's Emma approved."

"You realize that means you'd have to listen to what I say? That you'd have to model clothes for me?" Emma asks, not quite believing him as he nods in agreement. "Why are you doing this?"

He shrugs, knowing full well his plan has been found out, and figuring he might as well jump in. "Because I like seeing you happy, Emma. You deserve it."

She stares at him, momentarily taken back. They've been friends for years; they know each other well enough to push each other's buttons or let it be most of the time, but the last few weeks haven't exactly been easy. The idea that he'd shuffle around whatever plans he had that day simply to make her happy made her feel better than she wanted to admit. "You're a great guy, Alex Knightley," she says, playing punching his arm. "But you do know this means you can't argue with me if I tell you to try something on, right?"

"Yes, I do," Alex replies, fighting the urge to smile, because even though he knows it'll mean he'll probably come home with something he never would have picked for himself, just the thought of it has Emma acting like herself again, which is all he ever wanted in the first place. He stands, holding his hand out in suggestion she do the same. "Shall we go?"

"We shall," Emma says, choosing instead to loop her arm through his, pulling him in the direction of the door. "Just let me grab my purse." There is still the problem of breaking the news to Harriet, of finding a new client and potentially a new assistant, but she's happy now to take her mind off of things. "Oh, Alex," she says, brushing up against him as they walk through the doorway. "We're going to have so much fun."


End file.
